


Amidst Salt & Smoke & Sun

by StarksInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Pregnancy, Sack of King's Landing, child birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarksInTheNorth/pseuds/StarksInTheNorth
Summary: Rhaegar leaves Lyanna at the Red Keep with his first wife before riding off to battle. It changes everything.
Relationships: Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 102





	Amidst Salt & Smoke & Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt: “You deserve so much better than me.” “Stop lying.” Elia/Lyanna

As soon as Ser Jaime Lannister brings word that his father Tywin marches towards the city with an army of thousands, Lyanna’s water breaks. Elia guides the other woman to her own bed, the bed where she birthed sweet Aegon and curious Rhaenys. Outside in the city, they can hear people’s screams. But all Elia’s attention goes to the woman crying in her bedroom.

She commands Jaime to bring the midwife and her daughter, wanting both her children at her side when the monsters come.

Laying back in the soft down pillows as her contractions come, Lyanna squeezes Elia’s hand. “You need to take the children and leave.”

“How will I get out of this wretched place? I don’t know the tunnels, not like you.” A dimple appears between her eyebrows as Elia creases them in worry. Her mind races through the list of all the things she would need to escape. But she has grown surprisingly fond of her husband’s second wife in the months since he left them both here in his father’s care, and her heart aches to even think of leaving Lyanna alone, let alone on the birthing bed. “I wouldn’t know where to go.”

Jaime bursts through the door with Rhaenys in his arms. On the other side of the chamber, Aegon wails at the sudden intrusion. “I couldn’t find the midwife. Half the servants have deserted, your highness.”

A pain seizes through Lyanna. The young woman swallows her scream and clutches at her swollen belly. “You need to go, Elia. _Now_.”

“I won’t leave you Lya. Not like this, not when you need me.” 

“The children need you. Take Aegon and Rhaenys and run. _Please_!” Lyanna screams in earnest now, no longer caring if the entire castle hears her pain. 

This baby comes too quickly, Elia knows, too harshly. She looks back at Ser Jaime. Her daughter is whimpering, her head buried against his padded shoulder. She glances around the room, taking in what resources are available to her.

The fire glows with dull embers, a pitcher of water sits besides a bowl on her boudoir, a few hand towels besides. It’s not enough, it’s not enough. But she will see this child delivered safely, her husband’s last. It does not even matter that it is his, for she abandoned loving Rhaegar many years ago. Although she harbors a sweet affection for him, it is Lyanna that she cares for now, and it is for Lyanna that she will care for this child.

Seeing the hesitation in her eyes, Lyanna beckons Ser Jaime forward. He sets aside Rhaenys next to Aegon’s cradle, then bends down to her side and she whispers in his ear, soft enough that Elia cannot hear the words. But she does see Lyanna indicate the hearth of the princess’s fire before she falls back against the pillows with another contraction.

Pushing up Lyanna’s skirts with no care for modesty when there is no time for it, Elia gasps and steps back. The babe is already crowning. “Ser Jaime, do you have a dagger?”

She pulls her hair back and ties it with a leather thong before going to the pitcher of water and pouring it into the basin to wash her hands. As Jaime produces his blade, she instructs him to heat it in the coals to burn off any filth that may tarnish it.

She wets one hand towel, no time to heat the water, and takes another for Lyanna’s forehead. Elia brushes Lyanna’s wild curls off her burning, sweating forehead. “Here, dearheart.” She offers the third towel. “Bite on this.”

The towel comes just in time as Lyanna contracts again, her body painfully twisting. 

“Bar the door, Ser Jaime. This babe will not wait much longer.” Elia commands, ever the regal princess. She takes Lyanna’s hand and squeezes it. “Your doing perfectly, sweetling. A little while and the babe will here soon.”

Elia lines herself between Lyanna’s legs, glancing down at the tuft of black hair coming from her womb. Though she is just as scared as Lyanna, she does not let it show and counts down between the pushes for the babe to come. It takes more than she thought it would, to birth this child, but finally the babe slips from between Lyanna’s legs into Elia’s waiting arms.

“Is my baby alive? What is it, Elia?” 

Lyanna weakly raises herself up by her forearms before collapsing back on the bed. Elia cradles the babe between her hands, glancing down at his solemn, quiet face. “Ser Jaime, your knife, please.”

With his blade, Elia cuts the child’s birth cord. At the action, the peal of his scream fills the chamber and sets Aegon to crying once again. Lyanna sighs in relief. “Let me, let me see her.”

“Who said anything about a her? We have a son, Lya.” Elia says, carefully laying the baby in Lyanna’s outreached arms. Lyanna stares wide-eyed at the naked child, tracing his nose and his cheeks as he keeps crying out for his mother.

She looks up at Elia with those wide grey eyes, so mystified and terrified, her whole body trembling. “But Rhaegar said he needed . . .”

“Take Rhaegar and his prophecies and his Visenya. We have another prince.” Elia settles besides Lyanna on the bed as the other woman removes her breast to feed the babe, although Elia’s gaze falls on Ser Jaime and his terrified look as he stares over her balcony. “Ser Jaime, bring me your cloak so we may swaddle the babe. Tell me, Lya, what will you name him?”

“I think . . .” She swallows, unsure, and offers the child her nipple. He sucks hungrily, strong despite his early coming and his small size. “I think Jonnel. It’s a solid, northern name.”

“Our little Jon.” Elia smiles. She rises and accepts Ser Jaime’s cloak, noting his pursed lips and wide eyes. 

“My lady, they’ve breached the gate. It’s time to leave.”

“She’s too weak yet. Can’t we wait?” He shakes his head. Elia turns to say something, but her words turn into a scream. Lya convulses on the bed, her body shaking, the baby falling to her stomach. Elia lunges forward and picks up baby Jon as Ser Jaime presses down Lyanna’s shoulders to hold her in place.

Her body thrashes and Elia watches with horror-filled eyes. As she settles, Lyanna pushes herself up and glances towards the city outside the castle.

“You deserve so much better than me.” Lyanna whispers, the fires of King’s Landing flickering off the sharp planes of her face and casting shadows down her cheeks. “I’m holding you back.”

“Stop lying!” Elia says, rushing to her side. Hot, heavy tears push out of her eyes. “Can you stand?”

“You need to leave me. Take the children and go.” Lyanna reaches up a hand to caress Elia’s hands. “This is all my fault. This war, this danger . . . I should never have listened to Rhaegar.”

Elia grips Jon tight in her arms. How can she do this without Lyanna’s strength? The other woman is boundless in her courage, a fighter for anyone vulnerable and weak. Even now on death’s door, she fights for their children and for Elia. “I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

“You are a Martell of Dorne. Of course you’re strong enough.” Lyanna ruffles Jon’s hair gently. Already her eyes are fading. “Take care of him. Tell him of me. Of my better days than this.”

“Of course.” Elia grips Lyanna’s hand tight as an iron gauntlet.

“Tell him I loved him. As I love you.” Lyanna smiles weakly, her hand falling from Elia’s as her eyes turn to glass. The baby screams again in Elia’s arms, from the cold or the sadness, she doesn’t know. She wants to scream too, as this woman she loves leaves her, dying in a pool of blood, but she has three children to save from a city on fire. 

She swaddles Jon tight in Ser Jaime’s cloak before turning to the knight of the kingsguard, who already has prepared her other children by the fireplace. Voice quivering, she asks, “Must we leave her?”

“My father will kill you all if we do not.” He takes Elia by the elbow and guides her to the hearth fire, kicking the glowing coals away to reveal a grate leading beneath the castle. “She told me the way out.”

 _One last gift for us_. Elia accepts Aegon from Jaime and clutches both babes tight against her chest as they descend into the darkness, wondering what is to become of her children.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, then come hangout on [tumblr](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com) to talk about Jonsa, Jonerys, Daensa, OT3, ASOIAF, and GOT. I also take prompts in my [ask box](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com/ask/).


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